


You're Killing Me Over Garlic Knots

by stargirl (orphan_account)



Category: Big Hero 6 (2014)
Genre: Incest, Jealousy, M/M, Sibling Incest, at least not yet, does not actually contain smut, dramatic chase, hiro's not friends with tadashi's crew, i'm on the highway to hell, seriously, slight AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-29
Updated: 2015-03-29
Packaged: 2018-03-20 04:18:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,409
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3636465
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/stargirl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After a week of neglect, Hiro just wants to see his brother. The entire universe conspires against him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	You're Killing Me Over Garlic Knots

**Author's Note:**

> I do not own any of these fantastic characters

It took Hiro three days to notice. Just over 74 hours. But when it came to the absence of the most important and annoying person in Hiro’s life, three days was an eternity.

An eternity that quickly stretched into four days, then a week. A week of wrenches bending under pressure, four new fire extinguishers for the garage, and dinner for two.

Hiro’s magnificent, whirling brain leapt to the conclusion that his brother was avoiding him.

On night nine, Hiro let out a snore, sprawling over his comforter with an arm tucked underneath his pillow. The door cracked open. Hiro’s eyelids fluttered and he ran a hand across his nose, lingering in the half state between dreams and reality. The light didn’t turn on and two chimes rang in from the old grandfather clock downstairs.

The sound of footsteps, muffled by thick carpet, filtered into Hiro’s dreams, along with the slide of the divider.

Hiro furrowed his brow, his fingers clenching around the sheets. It was late, far too late.

The footsteps halted. Warm lips pressed against his forehead and Hiro sighed, rolling over and grabbing a fistful of warm fabric. A hand closed around his own. His fingers were pried off, achingly slow.

Hiro woke to the lingering smell of vanilla and morning light streaming into an empty bed.

\---

“Is Tadashi alive?” asked Hiro, plopping down in the barstool next to the counter. He tucked his feet into the rungs and leaned against his forearms. The café’s business had slowed to a trickle and Aunt Cass was no longer a blur of dishes and paper.

“Of course he is! Don’t joke about that.”

“Could’ve fooled me.” He reached out, snatching one of the steaming mugs of hot cocoa off the serving platter resting on the countertop. Being the owner’s adopted son gave him amazing privileges. He was Swiper the fox. Tadashi wasn’t there to be his Dora the Explorer.

“He’s just been busy at the university. I think he’s made a bunch of new friends. Something you could stand to do.” Cass threw out an elbow, catching Hiro in the ribs.

“Ow! I have friends. There’s Tadashi, you…Mochi. That guy who sells spare parts.”

“Creepy Saul? Hiro, he keeps asking if he can implant microchips in Mochi. You’re not allowed to go to his shop anymore.”

Hiro nodded, sipping his hot chocolate. A splash of cinnamon danced across his tongue and he made a mental note to hide the bags bearing the man’s friendly slogan, “We’ll Get Under Your Hood!”, deep inside his closet.

Hiro whirled around in his chair. Cass’ hand shot out, catching his wobbling drink.

“Tadashi is my brother! Why won’t he pay attention to me?”

Cass laughed. “Have you tried talking to him?”

Hiro’s fingers closed around the zipper at the bottom of his hoodie, tugging at it. “No,” he said.

“He’s not a caveman, you know. Just send him a text, tell him your old Aunt Cass is making hot wings from hell or that you’re being kidnapped. I’m sure he’ll come running like a golden retriever or something.”

Phone? Oh, yes. It was dead, somewhere in the garage. Hiro had a vague recollection of using it as a coaster. It didn’t matter, because the only one who ever texted him was Tadashi, saying that he’d be home late or telling Hiro to clean his side of the room, Tadashi was tired of dodging dirty underwear in the morning.

Hiro had given up on his phone buzzing after day four of silence.

Cass leaned against the countertop, dragging a pinkish rag across it.

“Try some brotherly bonding activities. Like, I don’t know. Chop some wood. Or pick out underwear. Go see a movie together!”

Hiro nodded, taking another swig of his drink.

A breeze of cool air washed into the café, and Hiro caught a whiff of something burning. Cass bolted upright.

“My croissants!” She dashed through the doorway, then swung back around. “Go get him, little man.” She stuck out her fist, bumping it against Hiro’s – the regular, boring kind of fist-bump – and disappeared.

Bonding activities. Hiro would have to check the couch cushions, see if Cass was hiding any parenting books. But – it had been a _week_.

Hiro sniffed his hot chocolate and held back a gag. He glanced around, then dumped the contents into the potted fern at his feet. He hopped off the barstool and pushed his way through the line forming at the cash register.

He had a phone to charge.

\---

Hiro clutched his phone in both hands.

For two straight minutes, he sat surrounded by a tangle of machines in various states of development, staring down at it, the faint squeeze of panic in his chest.

He completely forgot how to begin a conversation.

After telling his heart to calm down, he typed out a message and hit ‘send’.

_Hey, nerd. Aunt Cass wants you home for dinner._

He plopped his phone down onto the table, covering the blueprint for a magnetic dish-bot, and turned towards the glowing screen of his computer. His fingers itched – he had a string of coding that needed fixing.

His phone buzzed. Hiro darted forwards, flipping his chair over.

He pulled himself up onto the desk, rubbing the back of his shoulder. His phone screen lit up.

**_Sorry, having dinner with the crew._ **

Hiro tossed the phone into the air, catching it. He took aim. Spotted a sweet spot on the wall, just above the calendar of cats. Calculated the trajectory. Realized Aunt Cass definitely wouldn’t buy him a new one.

_She’s making lasagna. I think if we spend one more night alone, she’ll give me ‘the talk’. Think about your decision, dude._

**_You’re growing up so fast. Want to come with us?_ **

Hiro’s heart jumped to his throat. An image of a dimly lit dining hall flickered through his head. Polo shirts. Whitened smiles. Overuse of words like ‘project efficiency’ and ‘preeminence’.

He swiveled back to his computer. There was the click of his mouse.

The phone rattled.

**_The crew’s bailing. Turns out they have these things called ‘families’. Wierdos._ **

Hiro let the corners of his mouth turn up in a smile.

**_How about a night out, just the two of us? I kind of miss your dorky face._ **

The smile turned into a floppy grin and silent fist pumping.

_I’m in, as long as you’re paying._

\---

Cass dropped Hiro at the restaurant, an Italian place that served more pasta dishes than he knew existed.

“Have fun on your date, munchkin,” she said, smoothing down the collar of the button-down shirt she’d forced him into. Hiro itched at his jeans.

“It’s Tadashi, Aunt Cass. I’m meeting Tadashi for dinner.”

Cass cackled, like an evil witch, and pulled away.

One foot on the pavement, the other on the doorstep, Hiro inhaled and pushed open the door.

It was a joke. With a bone-jarring certainty, he knew it was a trick.

“Hiro!” Hiro’s gaze snapped towards the far corner of the room, underneath a vintage movie poster. Tadashi waved at him, already seated.

The restaurant buzzed with a Friday night rush. Hiro awkwardly pushed in chairs and stepped on feet as he waded across the room.

He slid into the booth opposite Tadashi and stretched out his legs.

“You’re late,” said Tadashi.

“Aunt Cass was driving. You’re lucky I’m here. She almost hit a stray cat, then pulled over to apologize.”

Tadashi laughed. Up close, he wasn’t the same. Hiro felt like he was looking at a cheap reproduction.

He still had a strong jawline, but bags sagged underneath his eyelids. His t-shirt bore a logo Hiro didn’t recognize. The bill of his hat pointed slightly to the left.

Hiro reached out, leaning over the table and tugged it back into place.

Tadashi ran a hand over the back of his neck. There was a grease stain just below his elbow.

“Things have been crazy at the lab. I started a new project that I’m excited about, but it’s still in the early stages. Honey Lemon thinks I’m onto something huge.”

“Honey Lemon? Is that a person?”

A breadstick snapped in Hiro’s hands, and he caught a whiff of warm yeast.

Tadashi’s face lit up. “Yeah, she’s amazing. She developed a spray-on foam that adheres to human skin and acts as stitches.”

The bread Hiro had shoved into his mouth suddenly tasted like cardboard.

“Bring home a bottle,” he said, spewing breadcrumbs, “so we don’t have to freak out Aunt Cass with another trip to the hospital when the suspension on an electro-magnetic gear gives out.”

“Uhm, I think she’d have to design a Hiro-proof spray just for you, knucklehead.”

Hiro’s foot collided with the side of Tadashi’s leg. A packet of sugar flew past his head.

There was the rough, clearing of a throat. Both boys froze.

“Ready to order?” asked the waitress. Her nails were painted a bright pink and a smile stretched tight across her lips in an obvious attempt to hide a smile.

Hiro ordered mozzarella sticks and garlic knots, extra sauce. Tadashi’s cheeks were tinged pink, and he fidgeted as he handed over the menu.

Warmth bubbled through Hiro’s chest. He rested his cheek against the palm of his hand.

Something was missing. Ah – the bitter restlessness that had been eating at Hiro’s mind for the past few days. It took repose.

“Hiro?”

“Huh?” He glanced around. The waitress had disappeared and the couple next to them was already digging into dessert.

Tadashi shook his head. “It’s not important. I can’t believe you ordered off the kid’s menu.”

Hiro crossed his arms. “I do what I want. Hey, you didn’t get any garlic knots.”

“Yeah – I figured I’d just steal some of yours.”

“No way! You know how I feel about garlic knots.” Everyone knew how Hiro felt about garlic knots, especially after his first and only attempt at cooking them himself. It took a lot of love to burn dough that badly and still eat it.

“You’re going to have to pry them out of my cold, dead – “ Hiro choked. There, in the far corner of the restaurant. A large man squeezed into a tight booth, shaking hands with two others. His tracksuit contrasted the formal clothes worn by other patrons.

Hiro dropped, ducking underneath the table. He pressed his face into Tadashi’s corduroy pants.

The tablecloth rumbled, and Tadashi joined him.

“Hiro, why are we underneath a table?” If Tadashi hadn’t been breathing in his ear, their faces inches away, Hiro wouldn’t have heard the words over the thumping of his heart.

“We have to leave. _I_ have to leave.”

This dim light filtering through the tablecloth fell upon Tadashi’s creased brow.

Tadashi groaned. “Someone you’ve pissed off?”

“Well – “

“Bot fight?”

“Yup.”

Footsteps. A thump on the tabletop. Hiro’s fingers curled around Tadashi’s shoulder, tight enough to feel bone.

“Where the hell did they go?”

They exhaled. Just the waitress. More footsteps, growing softer.

“Let’s just leave,” said Tadashi. “They probably haven’t noticed you.”

Hiro’s stomach rumbled. “But my garlic knots.”

“Criminals do not deserve garlic knots!”

“Hey, I’ve seen the amount of music you’ve illegally downloaded.”

“Yeah, that’s not the same. Now, on the count of three, we dash. One, two – three!”

Hiro pushed through the curtain of cloth and rolled out. He heard a loud thud. The table shook behind him. He collided with something hard and distinctly Tadashi.

Pain rocketed through his skull.

“Ow!” he said, clutching at his head, sprawled across the floor. Tadashi groaned.

A new voice. “Look what we’ve got, boss.” The look on the man’s face could’ve scorched icebergs. Hiro was caged in by angry men and expensive shoes.

“Unbelievable,” said Tadashi, and then yanked Hiro’s arm. Hiro elbowed a shin, forcing his way out of the circle.

“Run!” Hiro heard a cacophony of gaps and he trailed after his brother. He knocked into a waitress – possible his own. In slow motion, a plate of spaghetti completed a perfect arc over his head. Noodles rained down on him with a sickening splat.

Hiro clutched at Tadashi’s hand. They dodged a teetering couple and slid under a counter, bursting through the double doors into the kitchen.

“Sorry, excuse me, pardon me –“ a string of pleasantries flowed from Tadashi’s mouth.

Hiro took a large breath, skidded across the pool of soapy water, and pushed over a stack of plates.

The ground rumbled under the clatter of dishes. Tadashi burst through another door, and chilly air slapped Hiro across the face.

The door slammed open behind him and the men emitted breathy grunts. Tadashi broke into a sprint. Droplets of rain hit Hiro’s face as they rounded a corner.

Metal tins clattered to the ground. The air smelled like wet garbage.

_Crash!_

Indistinct curses filled the air. Hiro’s legs pumped, slipping across wet asphalt, burning.

“Grab on!” yelled Tadashi. Two large hands wrapped around Hiro and suddenly, he was airborne.

Hiro’s hands grabbed the wire of the fence. Tadashi pushed on his sneakers – the world spun, and Hiro landed face up, mud seeping into his clothes. His lungs rose and contracted uselessly.

“You’re killing me,” he wheezed, “you’re killing me over garlic knots.”

Thunder cracked.

“In here!” Tadashi held open what looked like a piece of plywood. _Door_. Hiro leapt to his feet, his knees wobbling, and broke into a sprint.

Tadashi pushed him inside, slamming the door shut.

“Hey, what – “ Tadashi shoved Hiro into the corner. The only source of light – dimly filtering through the musty window overhead – disappeared.

“Shh.”

For a moment, the world froze, and they just stood chest to chest, their heavy pants ringing out in unison.

“I think we lost them,” said Tadashi, after a beat. He didn’t move.

Under the scent of Tadashi’s cologne, Hiro caught a whiff of stale balsawood and dew. Tadashi’s sweater clung to Hiro’s cheek and for some reason, he couldn’t even imagine his brother breaking away.

“Are – are you sure?” He didn’t mean for his voice to shake but relief flooded through his veins when Tadashi pressed closer.

“Yeah, they’re gone.”

The moments crawled by. Hiro picked a piece of spaghetti off of his shirt and flung it away.

“Tadashi?”

“Yeah?”

“Where the hell are we?” Hiro earned a pinch to the shoulder.

“Language! We’re in Fred’s mini-house.” Something coiled inside Hiro’s stomach. He crossed his arms.

“Great. That explains absolutely nothing.” He couldn’t keep the venom out of his words.

“Fred is SFIT’s mascot. He keeps these sheds all over the city to store his su-“ Tadashi choked on the word. “ - uniform. His mascot uniform.”

Hiro glanced around. The space formed a perfect square. He estimated that if Tadashi stretched out, his fingertips and toes would probably just brush the walls. A steel box rusted in the corner.

Hiro’s hand flew to rub the back of his neck and he looked at his sneakers.

“I’m sorry I ruined our dinner.”

Tadashi rubbed his knuckles into Hiro’s scalp. “No worries. I knew some horrible disaster was bound to happen.” Hiro laughed, ducking away.

“We should probably head home,” said Hiro, “see if Aunt Cass has any leftovers.”

On cue, a crack of thunder exploded overhead. The room shook and Tadashi’s arms wrapped around Hiro.

“Or not,” said Tadashi. He crouched on the floor, stretching his legs and resting them against the box, his knees bent. He patted the floor beside him.

“I’ve got the newest pod of Adventure Time on my portscreen.” Tadashi drew out the device, shaking away droplets of water.

Hiro dropped beside him, hugging his knees to his chest. A chill racked through his spine and he shivered.

Tadashi sighed. He scooped a hand under Hiro’s knees, lifting him into his lap. He pressed a hand to Hiro’s chest until he reclined backwards, his head nuzzled underneath Tadashi’s chin.

The room felt ten degrees warmer.

“Set it up,” said Tadashi, shoving his phone into Hiro’s hands. Then, he wrapped his arms around Hiro, his hands resting just above Hiro’s navel.

“Tadashi, I’m not a little kid. Stop being so _protective_.”

“You know you love it. Shut up and hit play, knucklehead.” Bright colors and cartoonish figures lit up the screen and the theme song played. The pod featured Hiro’s favorite character, a vampire, which he _should_ have enjoyed if _someone_ wasn’t playing with his hair like he was a freaking puppy.

Tadashi’s fingers carded through Hiro’s hair, parting it, his nails dragging across Hiro’s scalp. They fell into a silence punctuated by tinny voices, the kind of silence that only exists between eternal companions.

Tadashi’s fingers scraped against Hiro’s scalp. Bursts of pleasure rocketed through his chest. Hiro shuddered.

The fingers stopped.

“Still cold?”

“No, I’m fine.”

“Hiro, we could – “

“I’m not freaking cold!” Hiro clamped a hand over his mouth. On the screen, the characters had broken into a rock song about friendship. Hiro’s cheeks flushed a bright red.

“Oh,” said Tadashi, baffled. Then, “ _oh_.”

The tips of Hiro’s ears turned a bright red and he felt like a herd of fire ants had dug deep underneath his skin. Suddenly, he didn’t want to be in Tadashi’s lap, wrapped inside his arms, breathing his cologne and sharing body heat. Outside. He needed to be outside. Cool rain dripping against his skin. Elsewhere.

“Crap, I think I left my, uhm, underwear back at the restaurant!” Hiro threw his legs to the side, trying to lurch to his feet.

Tadashi pinned him down with a hand across the hips.

“Underwear? That’s weak, little bro. You’re lying.”

And the Hiro felt it. The pattering of Tadashi’s heart, like a frightened animal. Warm breath against Hiro’s neck, raising gooseflesh. The unmistakable grinding of Tadashi’s hips.

“Oh yeah?” said Hiro. “Prove it.” Tadashi’s hand, which lay resting right over Hiro’s navel, dipped down. His hands were huge – a splayed palm covered the entirety of Hiro’s stomach. Hiro melted into Tadashi’s chest, his eyes falling shut, his nose brushing against Tadashi’s neck.

As the unclasped his belt, Hiro realized that he loved Tadashi’s hands. He had fingers much longer than Hiro’s own, with warm callouses and shortly trimmed nails. Nails that felt absolutely _amazing_ scraping against the fabric of his boxers. Until they stopped.

Hiro cracked open an eye.

“Oh, god, don’t let me fuck this up,” said Tadashi. Suddenly, Hiro was walking on a half-frozen pond, endlessly deep water covered by a fragile layer of ice. One wrong step and he’d go crashing through. But Tadashi would be there to catch him, to pull him to the surface, to keep him warm. Tadashi would always be there.

“We’ll fuck this up together,” said Hiro. “And it will be beautiful.”

Tadashi clamped a hand over Hiro’s mouth. “Language!” Hiro slobbered all over the palm, pressing hot kisses to the insides of Tadashi’s fingers until Tadashi pulled away. Hiro turned, craning his neck, a stupid grin stretched across his face. Tadashi kissed him, a mad clashing of lips. Tadashi’s embrace tightened, surrounding him, his presence everywhere at once.

Hiro turned in Tadashi’s lap until he was straddling him, a knee pressed against each of Tadashi’s hips. Their noses pressed together and they kissed until Hiro’s lungs burned. Lightning flashed and Hiro jumped. He burrowed into Tadashi’s chest, shivering.

Warm lips pressed against his hairline.

“I guess we’ll just have to wait out the storm,” said Tadashi, “and I think they portscreen’s dead.” The tiny screen had begun to flash red, scattering shadows across the walls.

“Darn,” said Hiro, beating a fist against Tadashi’s chest. “You should’ve charged it. How could you be so irresponsible?”

“ _Spaghetti_ , Hiro. There’s a reason why you’re covered in it. Now, are you ready to act like a big boy, or would you rather I warm up your bottle and read you a bedtime story?”

Reluctantly, Hiro sat upright, balancing himself.

“You know,” he said, shrugging, “I still need the birds and the bees talk. Hands-on demonstration is strongly encouraged.” Tadashi’s hands encircled around Hiro’s waist, rubbing into the hollows of his hipbones. His thumbs pressed downwards and Hiro let out a strained breath.

Tadashi’s fingers dragged down Hiro’s fly and he leaned down, pressing a kiss just above Hiro’s waistband. He looked up.

“You’re a filthy liar,” he said.

Hiro raised an eyebrow. “What are you going to do about it?” Tadashi’s fingernails dug into Hiro’s skin, leaving pale crescents.

“I’ll think of something,” he said.

He did.


End file.
